Flowers Of Anarachy
Here we stand in open fields
With guns in hand
But peace in our souls
A new generation rises
To fight the evils of the old
But there's trepidation
And tears in our eyes
We couldn't stop it
From coming to this
Our hands soon to be stained
With the blood of our own
But with steel in our hearts
We offer no comfort
To those dying in the masquerade
There were chances to reverse
And choose another way
But now it is too late
And Death's bell begins to sound
War...war never changes
But the eyes that behold it do
Forever tainted by the sight
Nostrils infected by the scent
Ears entrenched with the horror
Like playthings the survivors
Will be forgotten and homeless
While those who did not fight
Become legends in their own minds
But there is no legacy in bloodshed
Only those who must fight
And those who are left behind
Here we stand in open fields
We the people
The Flowers of Anarchy
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
